The Brenfield Barns
by Dandelion FiddleFingers
Summary: Welcome to The Brenfield Barns - a wonderful place of talking animals, vegetables and other magical creatures. Everyone is happy at Brenfield, for it is a most happy place. Follow the story of Le Chef the frog and his hunt for the eggs, and witness the romantic tale of Steven the Rabbit express his love towards Carrot. (RATED M FOR EXTREME VIOLENCE)


**The Brenfield Barns**

A Children's Story by C.R Kasimir

The morning sun rises upon the Brenfield Barns, as the animals awake from their slumber. The trees softly dance in the wind, bright red and yellow, casting their cool shadows upon the fields and crops, who also wave gently in the brisk autumn breeze. Everyone is happy at Brenfield, for it is a most happy place. The farms animals stretch and sigh after their sleep, while little fish peak out from the lake, smiling at the colorful flowers who smile back at them.

Steven the Rabbit walks through the garden. "Hello Carrot!" He says cheerfully.

"Good morning Steven!" Says Carrot. "What a fine morning this is, wouldn't you say?"

"Why, as a matter of fact, I would say so!"

After greeting Carrot, Steven continues on with his stroll through the garden, chewing on tufts of bright green grass still covered in the refreshing morning due. While Steven eats his breakfast, Le Chef the frog makes breakfast for himself and his company.

"Oh, qui qui!" exclaims Le Chef. "Oh, qui qui indeed! This is a most fine breakfast I have made here, my friend!"

"It smells delicious!" says Bill, a well-dressed bird.

"Oh yes! Such a fine herbs and spices! Oh, ho ho!" Le Chef excitedly smacks the counter with both his hands. "So ever tasty this will be!"

"Yes, I cannot wait!"

"You cannot wait?!" Le Chef angrily ejaculates. "You should have me hastily rush breakfast, carelessly ruining it because you do not have the patience for such a delicious meal? How dare you insult my culinary expertise!" Le chef aggressively swings his arm across the kitchen counter, knocking over spices and utensils. "You disrespect me in my home! You have no care for anything of taste, you buffoonish ruffian!"

"You misunderstand! I mean only that I greatly anticipate breakfast!" Claims Bill, fearing he has insulted Le Chef.

"Yes, you anticipate breakfast! Not mine, of course, for you haven't the patience to wait! Well, fine, you insulant tit!" Le Chef grabs the skillet from off the hot stove, smashing it onto the floor. The pan loudly clangs against the ground a few times before settling next to the spoiled omelet. "There you are! There is your breakfast! Cooked nice a quick as you like!"

"Le Chef, I…"

"Quiet!" He demands. "What? Is this undercooked? Not quite crisp enough for you?" He gestures towards the mangled egg. "Well, perhaps you should go out for an Egg Mcmuffin, then, eh?"

Bill does not respond, as he silently sits down with an expression of, if anything, confusion on his face.

"Bill…" says Le Chef apologetically, realizing he may have overreacted. "I'm sorry. I do not know why I got so heated right then."

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

"I ruined your egg, see? It is splattered on the floor." Le Chef gestures again towards the egg. "It's ruined, see? I will make you another." Le Chef's voice has become far warmer.

"No, really, Le Chef, that's alright."

"No, Bill. It is not alright. I have ruined your egg. I have picked your egg up, and I have tossed it on the ground. Now I will make you another one, even better!" Le Chef excitedly dashes to the refrigerator to find the largest, roundest egg for Bill. He rummages through, pulling out vegetables and condiments. The floor now is a mess of various kitchen appliances. "Blast! It seems we are out of egg."

"That's quite alright, Le Chef, I think I should be going about now anyway." Says Bill politely as he looks at his watch, though he does not bother to actually read the time.

"Nonsense, my friend! Say, I think Steven the Rabbit should have some eggs, no?" Asks Le Chef.

"Well" Ponders Bill, "I suppose so, yes."

Le Chef clasps his hands together, with a wild grin. "Then I suppose I best find myself a Rabbit, eh?"

Carrot sits still, half submerged in softened soil as he watches the animals frolic in the sun, and roll in the leafs. Carrots face has a blank expression on it, as his eyes stare deeply into nothingness. He is surrounded by other vegetables in the garden, all shriveled away from the cold, creeping weather.

"Say, you!" Calls Le Chef from the other end of the garden. "Have you seen a rabbit?"

Carrot remains unaware of Le Chefs question, un-phased by his presence.

"Hello, Carrot?"

Carrot is taken out of his trance. "Uh, yes, yes? What is it?"

Le Chef notices the rest of the garden, and how incredibly dead it is. "God, what happened here?"

"The cold got to them. You see, we vegetables aren't exactly meant for the cold. Maybe I'm a bit more resilient than the others, having a thick carrot hide and all. But I can't see myself making it past October 25th. I guess I should be happy, but having to watch everyone else…"

"Yes, yes." Interjects Le Chef, wishing he had not asked the Carrot that question. "Yes, I am familiar with how seasons work. Now, have you seen a rabbit by the name of Steven cross this here garden?"

"Why, as a matter of fact I did! Steven's the only animal who bothers to speak with an old vegetable like me."

"And where was he headed?"

"Well, he probably went down to the docks. Steven tells me about how beautiful the water is. If only I could grow a pair of legs, and move from this patch. I too would sit by the dock every morning, read a book and watch the water ripple as I toss little stones across, counting how many times they…"

"Shut up, please." Interrupts Le Chef, this time more impatiently.

"I'm sorry?" Says Carrot, more surprised than offended.

"Please, vegetable, I beg you to shut up. I am very busy, and I seek the rabbit named Steven. Good day, Carrot."

"Good day, Mr. Frog." Says Carrot sadly and quietly.

Carrot watches Le Chef leave the garden, then falls back into a deep trance, mouth agape, and eyes fixated on the little animals playing under the trees shade. Carrots expression grows darker, drifting further and further into the void. Carrots mouth shapes into a cunning, wicked grin.

Steven walks along the edge of the lake; his small rabbit feet covered in sand, briefly washed off by the waves crawling up the shore. Steven walks past the dock, and walks onto a quaint little gazebo, overlooking the water.

"Hello, Steven!" Says Donny, a big, boisterous dolphin floating on the water outside the Gazebo.

"Well hello, Donny! How are you today?"

"I'm just floating along, how about you?"

Steven laughs. He has always found Donny to be humorous, if not a bit cheesy. "I'm well." Steven has a look of uncertainty on his soft, fluffy face.

"Well, you don't look like it. What's wrong Steven, is there something on your mind?"

"Well," Steven nervously laughs, "I suppose I do have some things on my mind."

"Like what? Come on, you can tell me." Pries Donny.

"I suppose. You see, I have very strong feelings for someone, Donny; someone who means a lot to me."

"Ahh, I see. Well who is it, Steven?"

Steven thinks for a moment, then decides she should not tell. "Well, I can't tell you that, Donny. But, well, I think I really like this person. I think I could, you know, spend a lot of time with them."

Donny grins. "Steven. It sounds like you're in love."

Steven mildly blushes, and turns his cheek from Donny. "Yes, perhaps it does. I don't think I've ever felt so strongly about my emotions. Usually there is some level of uncertainty, but this feeling I have now, well, I have never been more sure of anything in my life." Steven looks sadly across the lake. "But I tell you this, Donny; Love is a cold flame, lit by chance and fed by pain."

"That may be true, my boy. But do you really, truly love this person?"

"Do I love him? Well, I'm not sure. But his eyes entranced me into another world, far from ours, where just for a moment I thought he wasn't real. I thought he was a dream, or some projection of my mind. Then his voice like a thousand blades struck me, and I knew that he was real, and that he was far away. I thought I could meet him again in my dreams, but when I slept I slept in darkness, and when I awoke, my dream was gone."

The sound of gentle waves crashing against the gazeebo fills the silence. Donny looks down into the water, then looks back up to Steven. "Well kid, if you really do love this man, then you'd be a damned fool to not tell him."

That was exactly what Steven needed to hear. "Yes." He lit up, "yes, you're right! I must say something! Oh, god, why haven't I said something already!"

"That's the spirit, kid!" Says Donny cheerfully.

Steven stands up straight, feeling confident in himself for perhaps the first time in his life. "Yes! He is the light that guides me across the cold, dark sea! He is the flaming ember that ignites the passionate fire of love within me! I must tell him!"

Suddenly a strange, thin man dressed in old fashioned clothing pops out from out a flower patch near the gazeebo. He has a deranged look on him, and replacing his left hand is a humanoid flower with a face of its own, extending from out his sleeve. In his other hand was a pistol, aimed directly at Steven the Rabbit. "That's enough silly talk out of you two! Now hand over your eggs, rabbit!" He demands.

"It's the Flower Hand Bandit!" exclaims Donny. "Run, Steven!" Donny hastily dives into the lake.

"That is right, fish!" Says Flower Hand! "Flee, you silly aquatic specimen! Flee while your silliness is still intact!"

"Excuse me, sir!" Says Steven fearfully. "I'm not looking for…"

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"That! Stop that! Stop those silly words that you insist on speaking! Stop those dreadful sounds that continue to leak from out your lips! Now, without uttering a single syllable or venting out a vowel, would you kindly hand over your eggs, rabbit?"

Steven quickly nods his head, and reaches for his basket. His shaky hands pick the basket up, and hand the eggs over to Flower Hand.

"Thank you very much!"

Flower Hands talking hand, who had remained silent prior to just now, lights up at the sight of the eggs. "Come on, give me an egg! Mmm, yeah, those are some nice eggs. Come on, gimme one right now, pop it in my mouth!"

"Quiet, hand! These eggs are not for you!" Informs Flower Hand.

"Oh come on! Just one egg is all I'm asking for. Just slip me one under the table, nobody needs to know!"

Flower Hands tone grows highly irritated. "Enough! You are beginning to speak in a very silly manner, hand. Continue, and I may dip you in the lake!"

"Oh no, not the lake! Anything but the lake!" Begs the hand.

"Good." Flower Hand calms down. "Then I suppose we have an understanding, then?"

"Well yeah, yeah, of course. All I'm saying though, is that we've got a whole big basket of eggs here, and…"

Flower Hand grabs his wrist, pulling the hand to his eye level, furiously staring at him. "The lake it is then!" He briskly charges towards the water.

"No, no, please!" The hand begs desperately. "You're crazy, man! You're crazy!"

Flower Hand Stops himself above the water. "I am crazy? That is dangerously close to silly! How dare you, hand? I am a perfectly normal person!"

"Oh, geez, Flower Hand, you know I didn't mean it like that!" Insists the Hand.

Flower hand thrusts his arm into the lake, submerging the hand underwater. The hands cries for mercy are muffled and inaudible, as he gasps for air.

"Nothing silly over here, I assure you! Nothing silly at all!" Screams The Flower Hand Bandit, as he struggles against his thrashing hand, splashing water onto his jacket.

Steven thought a good time to flee was while Flower Hand was suffocating his own fist, and so he makes his way back to the garden. Steven is oddly happy as he hops along the fields. He should have been upset that his eggs were stolen, or that he may have just potentially witnessed a murder; or was it self-harm?

Regardless, Steven cares not, because he knows that this very afternoon he will tell Carrot just how much he cares about him, and that he wants to spend the rest of his days with him. So Steven the Rabbit carries on across the tall grass, tickling his furry belly without a care in the world.

"Hello, Steven." Greets Carrot, as he sees his furry friend approaching.

"Oh Carrot!" Calls Steven, "I must tell you something!"

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes!" Steven smiles. "Yes everything is quite alright. You see, Carrot, I must tell you something."

"Before you tell me, can I ask you something Steven?"

Steven was mildly hurt that Carrot would cut off his statement, but Carrot did not know what Steven was about to ask. "Yes, of course you can."

"Well, you see, I'm not too sure how much longer I have here, Steven. Winters coming up, and well, you know what that means."

"Yes, Carrot, I know. That's why I wanted to tell you…"

"Steven, I wish to walk. I wish to spring out from this garden and run, Steven. I want to frolic before I die, like a gazelle! I don't want to have spent my entire life trapped here. Can you help me with that, Steven?"

"Why, of course I will, Carrot, the very best I can. I…I care about you, Carrot."

Carrots voice slightly darkens. "Then come a little closer, Steven."

Steven draws closer towards Carrot, trembling with anticipation.

"Closer, Steven."

"Oh Carrot! I care for you so much!"

Once within reach, Carrot grabs a rock from behind him and smashes it against Stevens head. Steven is knocked off his feet, blood from his wound soaking his white fur red.

"Give me your legs, Steven!" Yells Carrot.

"Carrot! What are you doing?"

Carrot hits the rabbit again, then again, knocking him unconscious. Carrot screams as he digs his hands into the soil and rips himself from out the garden. He grabs hold of Stevens's limb body, and begins to pull on his legs with all his might. "Give me your legs, Steven! Give me your legs!" Carrot rips the first leg from its socket, and tosses it to the side.

Steven awakes and screams in immense pain as his blood sprays from the open wound, painting Carrot red.

"I need your other leg!" Insists Carrot, "I need both legs Steven!" Carrot rips the other leg from its socket. Stevens screaming abruptly stops, as blood pools around his corpse.

Carrot tosses the leg next to the other, as he sighs in exhaustion. Carrot looks to Stevens's body with a neutral expression on his blood covered face. "Don't worry, Steven. I'll put these to good use."

And so, as life ends for many unfortunate souls, so did Stevens; a horrible, gruesome death that no animal should have to suffer. And though Steven's story has ended, that is not to say Carrots has, or Flower Hand's, or even Le Chef's. You see, Le Chef caught wind that Flower Hand had stolen Steven's eggs, rest his soul, and so Le Chef went to the barn, where he would confront the thief once and for all.

Le Chef walks up to the swinging doors of the barn, and enters. Andy the Armadillo is there, along with his nephew peter. Clarice the cat is sipping her bowl of milk on the upper ledge of the barn, while Bill the bird is leaning against a pile of hay.

Le Chef quickly surveys the barn looking for Flower Hand, then stops as his eyes meet the thief, resting his elbow against the bar as he speaks to the bartender.

"I will have one glass of apple juice!" Says Flower Hand, as he points his finger at a pitcher of apple juice behind the bartender.

The hand speaks out from Flower Hands pocket. His voice is muffled from the fabric.

"What was that?" Asks the bartender.

Flower Hand nervously chuckles. "Oh, never mind that!" The hand wriggles, then pops out of Flower Hands Pocket. The bartender steps back as Flower Hand grabs hold of his wrist, stabilizing the hand.

"I'd like an apple juice as well, please!" Requests the hand.

Flower Hand attempts to stuff the hand back into his pocket. "I didn't think you'd be too thirsty after your encounter with the lake!"

Le Chef walks up behind Flower Hand, takes in a deep breath, and speaks in an exaggerated, assertive tone. "Excuse me, Mr. Flower Hand, sir! I have come for the eggs of which you have stolen!"

Flower Hand turns around to face the frog, hand still crammed in his pocket, wildly thrashing. "Get your own eggs, you boisterous, bloated, boob! How dare you speak to me in such a manner, you silly mess!"

"What do you mean, silly mess? You Sir, emit a silliness beyond absurdity! Look you, with your silly little talking hand that you hide away in your pocket! You are perhaps the silliest thing I have seen all day!"

Flower Hands face turns a fiery red, as he his eyes tighten viciously on Le Chef.

The hand slowly pokes out from the pocket. "You really shouldn't have said that, man."

Flower Hand steps closer, and speaks clearly, and calmly. "You will leave my sight immediately without a single peep, or I will pull out my pistol and shoot you through the head."

Le Chef rebelliously sticks his neck out towards Flower hand. "Then I suppose you best shoot me."

The barn remains silent, as the animals watch the quarrel. Between the silence, sounds of creaking wood and howling wind can be heard, whistling through the cracks of the ageing wooden planks.

Suddenly Flower Hand draws his weapon, and precisely shoots Le Chef straight through the head as he promised. Le Chefs brains splatter the barn wall behind him, as he loosely tumbles onto the hay scattered floor.

Bill the bird rushes to Le Chefs body, twitching on the ground. "No! Le Chef!" Bill, realizing he is quite dead, turns his attention to Flower Hand. "Why? Why'd you have to kill him?" he says angrily as tears rush down his face.

"I do apologize, bird. But this frog insulted me immensely."

The hand springs out from the pocket. "You didn't have to kill him, man!"

"Quiet, hand! I am growing tired of your endless interruptions that I value so very little! If I should ask for your opinion, then please do share. If not, remain silent!"

"I'm getting sick of you, man! The frog was right! You hear me!"

"Loud and clear, hand! I am just as sick of you as you are me! You are a curse, hand!"

"Well you're stuck with me!"

"Not any more, I am!" Flower Hand walks towards the bartender furiously. "You, bartender! Hand me that axe!"

The bartender nods and obliges Flower Hand, quickly lifting the axe from its stand and handing it over.

The hand lights up with fear at the sight of the axe. "Hey man, what are you doing?" His breathing grows heavier, as his heart rapidly beats. "Come on, let's talk about this!"

Flower Hand pins his arm against the bar. "I've heard enough talk out of you. Now hold still1, hand!"

"Listen man! Please! We're a team, you and me! Don't do this!"

Flower Hand lifts the axe, and swings it down onto his wrist. "Not anymore!" The talking flower pops off, thrashing wildly on the bar stand. He is gurgling horrendous, inaudible noises through the viscous blood pouring out his mouth. The thrashing and gurgling suddenly stops.

Flower Hand screams in pain as he grabs his severed stump. The pain in Flower Hands face quickly morphs into a new kind of pain; a solemn pain. He gazes at the corpse that was his hand. "Hand?" He drops to his knees, feeling ill from the blood loss. "What have I done?" he asks gravely, as he fades into unconsciousness.

So, just like Steven the Rabbit, the talking hand met a terrible, miserable fate. Flower Hand killed his only friend, and Le Chefs stubbornness lead to his early demise. At the very least, Le Chef died quickly and without suffering; but Bill the Bird was traumatized by the death of his friend, and Donny the Dolphin would never quite be the same after he heard of Stevens ruthless murder.

But there was one little orange vegetable at The Brenfield Barns whose story would end happily. You see, Carrot carved two round holes in his bottom, and fashioned Stevens's legs into them. With the help of two little twigs that propped him up, Carrot could finally walk.

"Yes! I'm Free!" Cries Carrot, as he dances through the fields. "I am finally free!" Carrot runs and hops, and twirls under the trees. He makes his way to the lake, resting under moonlight as he watches the water lap onto the sand. He listens to the entrancing sound of the water. "Thank you, Steven." He says to himself, as he peacefully gives out to the cold autumn night.

 **The End**


End file.
